


Scruff

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [58]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8292196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Poe's been busy.





	

Poe is that strange mix of tired and alert. His body still bright inside from all the adrenaline and purpose, but sleepy around the edges of it from long over-use. When his legs hit the duracrete, they wobble just for a moment before he finds gravity proper again.

BB-8 whirls around him, then heads off to relay their intel. 

His astro doesn’t _need_ to, but he knows it’s a favour to him. There’s no in-person intel to report, and it buys him a short while alone with Kylo when he gets back to their home.

The orange jumpsuit is opened half-way, falling around his hips like a flower split too wide. Below, the black shirt is snug to his skin, and his face is rough under his hand when he rubs at it. He really needs a shower, a shave, and a sleep. Probably in that order. He isn’t really ripe, but he is aware of the heat on his skin and the heaviness to his hair.

“Hey babe,” he calls out, when he gets in.  


Kylo’s head pops over the side of the couch. He often naps there when Poe is gone, leaving the bed cold and alone. “Hey.”

The speed with which he sits up says Kylo was not, at this point, napping.

“Mission went well. BB-8′s just–”  


Poe laughs as he’s dragged against his better judgement. Kylo’s Force-powers pluck at his clothes, slamming him into the back of the couch. Hands go up and to his face, and Poe tumbles over and on top of his lover.

“…really?”  


“Mhm,” Kylo says, wrapping around him like a rabid Rathtar. His hands clutching his cheeks, his legs winding around Poe’s own. “You were saying?”  


It’s difficult to talk when your lover is rubbing his face and lips all over your scruff. When he’s trying to climb you from below, tying his legs around your waist and grinding you down.

Poe tries regardless.

“…BB-8 is handing the intel in, but he won’t be long before he’s back.”  


“We can make it,” Kylo insists, a furtive hand sneaking down to fight their clothing.  


Poe assists by doing a push-up away from him, lifting so Kylo can tug both their cocks out of their respective pants. His fingers sink into the cushion behind Kylo’s head, and he looks down archly at his horndog of a boyfriend.

“I was gone for a whole day.”  


“I got lonely.”  


“…didn’t feel like jerking it to thoughts of me?”  


“Who says I didn’t?” Kylo smirks, as he grabs both their cocks and starts to do just that.  


Poe moans, and gently rolls his hips, sliding his prick against his lover’s. 

“Did you? In your cockpit?”  


“Wanted to. But there’s a comm, and an astromech. And after I comm’d out by mistake in the middle of ‘talking’ to you that one time…”  


“But you wanted to?”  


Poe nods, biting his lip as he remembers. He lowers his face to kiss Kylo again, but there’s a sudden shift as the Knight demands more stubble-burn across his face.

Laughing, Poe obliges. “C’mon, babe. Come for me, before anyone’s at the door. Show me how bad you wanted me.”

“Uhhhgnn…. yes, yes, I did, I–”  


Poe holds himself up, then smacks Kylo’s hand away from his lover’s dick so he can touch it instead. They each have hold of the other, and it’s only a matter of time as they work hard, dry and nasty. Knuckles bump, and he sinks his teeth into the curve of Kylo’s neck, growling and twisting his face to aggravate his skin with his fuzzy chops. 

Kylo _screams_ and bucks, coming like the teen he no longer is, the climax messy and good. Poe snickers, but then Kylo’s clawing at his hair and beating him harder in an attempt to win over the clock. The fear of being caught out ramps his arousal higher, and he spurts out over Kylo’s fist straight after.

Boneless, he drops onto him, heavy and immovable.

BB-8 has seen them snuggling after the event before, and unless the droid scans for post-coital emissions, or sees they have their pants undone, it won’t be a problem.

“You need a shower,” Kylo says, weakly.  


“Yeah. But what about the beard?”  


“That’s not a beard,” Kylo scoffs. “And I don’t know. Maybe…?”  


Poe hasn’t really grown one before. Could be worth a try.

“…but I’ll never live it down if I walk around with my face scratched pink from it,” his lover adds.  


Oh. Yeah. That’s a point.

“I could always put my face between your thighs, instead?”  


Kylo _squeaks_.

Definitely worth a try.


End file.
